


Loco Motive

by subito



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subito/pseuds/subito
Summary: She reminds him of his first love. Only this time, he is forty years older and things will be different.





	Loco Motive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mierke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/gifts).



> Dear Mierke, Original Work in an exchange is a new thing for both of us. I hope this is what you had in mind. Enjoy!

Benjamin Ingram wraps his coat around himself and smiles.

It is the first day of spring, but the clouds are hanging ripe and low, threatening to drown all early flowers with rain. The way up to the train station is a narrow, lonely path that not many people take. The only one greeting him this morning is a bird stuttering through a confused song as it tries to hide in the wispy bushes. There is a weight in Ben’s coat pocket that makes him want to whistle as well; anticipation is almost half the fun.

He sees her when she enters through the same door as always. She is wearing her green jacket and picks the most secluded seat in the big carriage. Ben moves up a few rows so he can get a good look at her. He also wants to make sure she will have to walk past him on her way out.

They have never spoken in the few weeks since she suddenly appeared on morning. He remembers how she had dropped into the seat behind him with a loud thud; how she had bumped her knees into the back of his seat repeatedly; how he had turned around, ready to shout; how she had looked at him in defiance - how he had been unable to turn away from her.

The demonstrative move of putting on her headphones, crossing her arms and closing her eyes had given him the luxury of letting his eyes linger right that first day.

At first, he had just tried to memorise as many details about her as he could. Even though the closer he looked, the more familiar she became. She had the same wide eyes, with almost too much space between them; the same curved lips; the same little mole on the side of her skinny neck. She was the spitting image of the first girl he had fallen in love with over forty years ago. Only that this girl in front of him had a tiny pink streak in her brown hair and her cheeks were soft with the last bit of baby fat.

He had decided to continue staring at her, to annoy her back, to decide if he was really seeing what – or who – he thought he was seeing. But when she wouldn’t acknowledge his presence, he had finally sunk back into his seat.

Looking at her now, Ben still can’t get over how familiar she feels. She had warmed up to him over time, if only in the way that she seemed to be aware of him and didn’t actively shy away on days when they were separated by only the back of a seat. She had that in common with Julie as well. That autumn of first love was a cruel teacher. Julie had been older by two years and tolerated his worshipping only because, at fourteen, he had been no threat to her in any way. How the times have changed, Ben thought.

He angles himself in a way that allows him to look at the girl. She prefers riding with the back towards the direction the train is going. It’s one of the many things Ben has learnt about her and plans on using to his advantage. Like the fact she is always listening to music; that she is sometimes tapping out the beat on her knees; how it makes her eyes move behind closed lids; the way her eyes thrill him when she suddenly looks directly at him.

They have never spoken a word to each other, but the notebook she uses to doodle in displays stickers he thinks can only be directed at him. A week after their first encounter, a sticker of a big middle finger appeared. She had been sitting pretty far away and he had thought it might have been a band patch, like the ones she had pinned to her bag. Then, a day after she had definitely caught him staring, a new sticker of a big eye had been added. And then there had been the day the “creep” sticker had made its first appearance. When she had seen him noticing it, Ben could have sworn there was a little smile playing around her lips.

She opens her green jacket and the light reflects off the little rainbow pin on her lapel. Ben had long wondered how it fit with her overall attitude. Then, one day, a girl of roughly the same age had talked to her on the platform and called her Iris. In his mind, the pin is a gift from a dead parent. It’s one of the tamer things his mind has made up about Iris.

The carriage is almost empty and Ben feels that today is the day something has to change. He walks up to the four-seater and sits next to where Iris has propped up her feet. For how loud she looks, she is extremely quiet. She also looks barely a teenager like this and, for a moment - a tiny, tiny moment - Ben questions what the hell he is going to do. But when Iris opens her eyes, all he sees is a challenge.

Neither of them smiles at the other. Iris just keeps looking at him with open curiosity and the least amount of contempt Ben has seen from her so far. He calmly looks back at her and gives Iris the opportunity to map him out as well, even though he is pretty sure she has done that already. She may look fairly innocent, but the way she looks at him tells a different story. He is old enough to recognise that kind of interest – and, apparently, so is she.

Ben slowly closes his left hand around Iris’s left shoe. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she puts a piece of chewing gum into her mouth. The show is about to begin, Ben thinks and smiles to himself.

He puts her foot into his lap to test her reaction. She just tilts her head, waiting. Ben unties her shoe, setting it down and placing the foot in his lap again more firmly. It is warm and small and he enjoys the way he can fit his broad hands around it entirely. Iris watches him and wriggles her toes experimentally. When she starts to press her heel in between Ben’s legs, he shakes his head.

“Shoes belong on the floor, young lady. Has no one ever taught you that?”

He sees her eyes widen with surprise she is unable to hide. Ben can’t help but feel pleased. His deep voice usually has this effect on people, but seeing how it affects Iris is enough to make him grow hard.

“Maybe you need to teach me,” she answers, and there is the sort of twinkle in her eye that tells Ben he has been right about her all along. She may look like Julie’s younger twin, but Iris is playing a different game.

“Do you think you have earned that?” Ben asks and presses her heel against himself. “Maybe we skip the feet and go straight to your knees,” he muses.

Iris is looking lazily around the carriage to see if anyone is listening in, but the few other people are too far away. For a second, Ben thinks she is looking for a way to escape. Then her eyes wander back to his and down to where her foot is in his hand, firmly pressed against his not-so-soft length.

“You are such a pervert,” she says without laughing.

Ben lets his fingers slide over her toes and into the trouser leg to touch her calf. He keeps thinking how soft her body seems, how malleable, and how easily he could crush her.

Iris blows a bubble and lets it pop. “If you really want that, we should find a quieter pace.”

She says it nonchalantly, business-like. Her eyes are fixed on the window for a few seconds, following the big rain drops running down and being blown all over by the moving train. It is unsettling Ben in a way, but it’s a way that only wants to get inside her even more by any means possible.

He knows about the many ways to get inside people: their hearts, their heads, their flesh, their beds – he has done it all. Never someone like Iris, though. Ben isn’t a collector, but if he were, Iris would be the perfect missing piece.

She is looking at him again and slowly pulls her leg out of his grasp. Then she leans forward and puts her hands on his knees, spreading them a bit wider. Ben sits back and watches with interest what she is going to do. None of the other passengers at the other end of the carriage have paid them any attention so far and he is willing to risk it. There are enough ways to keep her quiet.

Iris slides her hands down his legs and reaches for her shoe. The space between the seats is small and it wouldn’t take much for Ben to just push her face into his lap. While she unties and reties her shoes, Ben grabs her hair tightly without pulling to let her know what he could do, what he wants to do, to give her a warning and trigger her flight instinct, maybe also to give her the false hope she could still escape this.

She pushes her head against his hand and looks at him, her lips pressed together in amusement. Then she stands up, turns around and heads down the corridor towards another carriage. Ben looks after her, knowing she cannot go anywhere while the train is moving. His hand wraps around the steel in his coat pocket and part of him wishes she really would try to run away. Iris looks back at him over her shoulder, then opens the door to the next carriage.

When Ben catches up with her, he finds her leaning against the corridor wall. The train seems rougher back here, louder and positively used. Iris has one foot angled and propped against the wall, and her back arches in a way that pushes out her chest. In a film, she would have a cigarette hanging from her lips and she’d pull out a lighter, Ben thinks. He isn’t a fan of smoking, but fire is something he likes to work with.

“I have seen you looking,” Iris informs him, still trying to sound like this happened every day. Maybe it did.

Ben stands in front of her, puts his hands on either side of her head and pointedly presses his crotch into her upraised knee. “I have,” he replies, “and I want to see more.”

The lights that were too harsh in the carriage are unevenly dim in the corridor. He can see shadows form, yet none of them will stick to Iris’s youthful face. She starts to shrug out of her jacket, but Ben catches one of her arms and stops her.

“In there,” he says and pushes her towards the door of a private compartment. His other hand is on Iris’s lower back and he has to resist the temptation of letting his fingers dip inside her jeans.

“I have been wondering when you would make your move,” Iris tells him.

She is looking up at him from below, the height difference more than obvious, as is the difference in years. Iris can probably see exactly how many lines are engraved on his face, but Ben can’t bring himself to care. He looks decent enough for someone in his fifties, he thinks. The fact that Iris even let things get this far is proof enough for him. The grey stubble on his face won’t change anything now.

The door clicks shut loudly even against the sounds of the moving train. They are trapped with each other now and Ben needs to regain some control. He makes Iris sit down and opens his coat. The bulge in his trousers is bordering on painful.  
She gets rid of her jacket, a small pile of green on the floor that gets covered by the heaviness of Ben’s coat. Iris looks up enquiringly as the object in his coat pocket hits the ground with a clunk. He smiles and pulls out the knife he had been carrying for days, just in case.

It’s a beautiful knife, glistening even here, where there is almost no light to reflect. It feels itself as smooth as it does glide through almost anything. Ben looks at Iris and finds her staring at the knife, too. Only there is no horror in her eyes and he, again, wonders where the hell she has come from.

Iris looks at Ben and grins. Then she blows a bubble with her chewing gum and lets it pop on the tip of the knife, coating it in the white and sticky substance. Ben stares at the picture before him and then just laughs. He doesn’t know why exactly he feels so elated.

Taking out the rest of the chewing gum and sticking it onto the knife, Iris just sets it aside and raises an eyebrow at Ben. There is an urge to use the knife, to make her clean it and then press the steel, warm and slick with spit, against her throat, or her breasts or her inner thighs. He wishes he had the opportunity to do this, somewhere else. He wishes he had somehow managed to get her to one of the many lonely paths that must be muddy by now. The rain would help him cover his tracks, wash away unwanted remainders and all of his tension.

But when he is looking at Iris now, Iris and Julie, Ben feels it is perhaps better the way it is. He gets to look at her, again and again, and maybe see what will become of her once he has finally left his mark.

He gathers all of her hair in his left hand and pulls her head back tightly. Iris’s shirt stretches over her small breasts and Ben pinches one of her nipples hard. There is a sharp intake of breath and Ben watches how she holds it for a second and bites down on her lip.

He lets go of her nipple and opens his trousers, shoving them down just enough to free his erection. He sees Iris wet her lips just in time before he shoves his length into her mouth. Her eyes are closed and he slowly opens up her throat with forceful thrusts. She is only gagging a bit and he wonders how often she has done this before. He knows Julie used to do all sorts of things with his older cousin at an even earlier age. Not much seems to have changed in forty years.

Ben hits the back of Iris’s throat and keeps her there for a few seconds. He can feel her throat clenching around the tip of his cock, can feel her struggling to breathe, and presses her down just that tiny bit more. When he pulls her head back up by her hair, a thread of spit and pre-cum hangs from her mouth and he pushes her back down immediately.

After the fourth time, he can feel her trembling. She is trying to push herself away, but he only holds her down harder. This time, when Ben lets her back up for air, there are tears in her eyes. He looks at her, how she is swallowing down the fluids in her mouth, the redness of her eyes and lips, and grins. Much of her bravado is gone now. The unaffectedness flipped on its head. There is still that defiant look in her eyes, though.

Ben’s hand slips under her shirt and squeezes her breasts before turning her around, all the while keeping a grip on her hair.

“Pull down those trousers,” he demands. His voice is rumbling as deeply as the train and Iris is obeying without hesitation.

He touches her exposed flesh, even softer there and more vulnerable, before slapping her arse so hard she whimpers. He does it again for good measure and Iris arches her back in a beautiful curve.

Ben can see the wetness staining her panties and is proved right when he lets two fingers glide along her slit.

“Grab the condom from my right coat pocket,” he instructs her, “and rest your head on your jacket!”

Iris does as she is told. Ben towers over her, behind her, lets go of her hair and grabs her narrow hips.

When he tries to push inside, she is so tight he slips right out again. He places the tip of his cock at her entrance and slowly forces Iris to fuck herself open on his length. Ben’s hands guide her hips until Iris is fairly relaxed around his width. He then changes the angle and pushes in all at once.

Iris gasps loudly, almost screams, and Ben starts to fuck her earnestly. Between the sounds of rain on the window and the jolty tracks, Iris starts to push back against him on her own and her gasps turn into moans.

Ben reaches around her head with ease, covering her mouth with his hand, and pushes faster and harder inside her. She is touching her breasts, playing with the nipples he wants to bite raw.

He grabs her hair again, raising her up, telling her to turn around. Ben sits down in one of the seats and spreads his legs. Iris climbs on top of him, looking down to where they meet and glides down onto his cock. She then slowly starts to move her hips, letting Ben slip in and out of her again and again, all the while rubbing herself on him with every motion.

One of Ben’s arms reach around her waist and help her to keep the pressure going. When he can see that she is close, his other hand closes around her throat. Iris’s eyes fall open in surprise and she comes right there on top of him.

He doesn’t let her rest, but closes his mouth around one of her breasts. His hands lift her hips up and start a maddening rhythm. Ben is able to lift her up with ease, his big  hands cupping one cheek each, spreading her apart even more. He lets her fall down onto his cock and then meets her half in the middle to go even deeper. Everything is warm and wet and when Iris tries to free her sensitive nipple from his mouth, he fights to keep here there, presses her even closer, and comes.

It’s a release he had been chasing for quite some time and when Ben turns his head to look out of the window, he cannot tell if everything is blurry because of it or if it is simply the rain.

A short time later, they exit the train station together and the rain turns the greyish blue of Ben’s coat dark. A streak of pink is clinging to Iris’s cheek and makes it look like rain-diluted blood is running down towards her neck. He wonders if it will stain her clothes.

“I won’t be back, you know,” she tells him and tucks the wet hair behind her ear.

She takes a step towards him until her nose almost touches his chest. He looks down at her red eyes and swollen lips and knows this is all the explanation he will get.

Benjamin Ingram wraps his coat around Iris Foss. Then he watches her vanish.

 


End file.
